


#2. Make Up

by Cee5



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Molly Hooper - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:15:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cee5/pseuds/Cee5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly brings Sherlock the wrong body parts and he has an access of anger Molly isn't willing to endure this time. She refuses to forgive him but maybe there is something that will help change her mind.<br/>Made as a writing meme created on tumblr. First Sherlolly smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#2. Make Up

**Author's Note:**

> Second try at smut, a different couple this time. As usual, please be kind. I have no idea what I am doing. Or why am I doing it. But it's fun.

Molly looked outside the window, biting her nails. Somehow, it seemed that it always ended up like that.

The traffic was chaotic and the rain hit the glass, drops that seemed to race each other. Molly should probably call a cab, but she didn’t want to turn around just now. She was fighting the tears and pulling herself together. She could feel Sherlock’s gaze on the back of her head, but she needed time. Incredible, how he still affected her like this. She shouldn’t even pay attention to his words; they were usually rude, miscalculated, and Molly knew they were not meant to hurt her, but the fact that he couldn’t just say ‘thank you’ instead of complaining bothered her. She knew she had brought the wrong package. She knew he didn’t need more thumbs, but it had been an honest mistake, and he was nothing but an ungrateful idiot. God, she hated him sometimes. She also loved him, most of the time, and that was even more idiotic than anything else. Funny, how she always ended up here. New dates, new men, but once it was over her heart would always come back to him, as if it had never left. It was unhealthy, but ultimately, unavoidable. She didn’t seem to get to decide to wake up in the morning and think about him, always the anticipation of his visit on her mind.

Molly shook her head. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Molly, I am sorry.”

His voice was no more than a whisper.  He had gotten up and approached her. But he didn’t touch her. No, intimacy was too much for Sherlock Holmes. Molly took a deep breath and turned around.

“I know I didn’t bring you what you needed, but it’s no reason for you to treat me the way you did. It was rude and absolutely ungrateful.”

She was repeating her thoughts out loud, confronting him. Because if he could be mean to her, then she could also be mean to him.  She didn’t like it, but sometimes it was just necessary.

“I know. It was just an awful day. No cases. John is away on a trip; Mrs. Hudson took my skull… again. And we ran out of milk, so I have nothing to distract me. I was counting on you.”

“Yes, well, I was working. I finished my shift earlier to bring you what you wanted. I made an honest mistake.”

Sherlock couldn’t understand if she was referring to the wrong thumbs, or to end the shift earlier to meet him as a mistake, but he decided that she probably meant both.  He nodded.

“I know. It’s just…”

He turned around, frustrated. Then, throwing his arms in the air, he half-shouted.

“I have nothing to do!”

“Well, that’s not my fault!” Molly shouted as well.

“No, but if you had paid just a bit of attention and brought the right things…”

The look on Molly’s face didn’t allow him to continue. He had just apologised, and here he was, ruining it all again.

Molly’s eyes welled up, and tired of taking this, she paced towards the door, angry and hurt.

Sherlock caught her arm before she could walk out, and as she turned around with the strength of his grasp, he pulled her close. Too close. Closer than they had ever been. Her eyes looked up at him, fearful, sad.

“I’m sorry.” He said for the second time that day.

“No.” Molly interjected. “I am tired. Tired of taking this from you. Since you have learned to apologise you think you can do anything, and we can go back to things as they were. That I will always excuse you. Well, I am telling you I am not accepting any more apolo-“

Molly was stopped mid-sentence. Sherlock, still holding her arm, leaned down, towards her, and with his free hand grabbed her face. Molly answered instinctively, closing her eyes as his lips met hers.

Sherlock kissed her hard, his mind furiously working. And she grabbed him. She grabbed him by his shoulders, he was impossibly tall. She felt herself be pulled against the thin fabric of his night gown. And he dragged her against the wall, never stopping kissing her. Her heart was throbbing all over her body as his fingers ran down her back and stopped at her thighs, lifting her leg. She could feel him against her, bodies so close to each other, clothes mixed up in the fury of the embrace. She grabbed his curls and he opened his mouth, kissing her jaw and licking her neck. Molly had no idea what was going on, but she really couldn’t be bothered to find out. She moaned as his cold hands found the end of her shirt and he grabbed her flesh, looking for the hook on her bra, his fingers tracing her skin.

“Oh, please, yes.”

Was all she managed to say. She would have time to figure this out later.

For Sherlock, it had been a long time. A very long time. His mind always focused on his work alone, and he wasn’t really sure what had triggered all this. The desire, the need. Maybe it had been in his mind all along, suppressed.  But Molly was grabbing his hair and running her hands over his shoulders, and his body was aching for her now. But she needed time, she _deserved_ his time. Maybe he had finally found a decent apology.

He found the hook on her bra and he unhooked it. Good thing he paid attention to detail, and his mind could see what he was touching without a problem. Molly moved his arms as he removed the bra, still under her shirt. That was not okay. He stopped kissing her for a second, and he removed her shirt, watching as her hair fell on her naked shoulders, the unhooked bra falling to the floor. He didn’t have much time to gaze upon her, because Molly’s arms grabbed his shoulders and she pulled towards him. He pulled her up, one leg on each side of his waist, and made pressure against the wall again, trapping her. Molly called his name quietly, her tongue playing with his, removing his night gown, first one sleeve then the other, the hand he had free supporting her.

He knew the house like the back of his hand and he paced away from the wall, holding her tight, in the direction of the bedroom.

He half threw her onto the bed and Molly smiled as he did so, her gaze meeting his. He smiled as well, a mischievous look on his face. As he kneeled down on the bed, Molly reached out and removed his shirt with a fluid movement. He looked at her and he kissed her ear, her neck, her shoulders. He could feel her breath on his hair, and as he reached her nipples, she arched her back, grabbing his skin and scratching it absentmindedly. Sherlock took that as a sign to continue.  Her nipples hardened on his tongue and he bit softly, kissing her breasts. He traced her hip line and unbuttoned her jeans, sliding his long fingers inside her panties, touching her. Molly moaned again, her mouth opened and he caught her lips on his, his tongue warm and wet, as she was.

“If you think…”

Molly started talking, getting away from his mouth, and he removed her jeans, kissing her again, from her chin to her belly. He licked her bellybutton, squeezing a bit of flesh gently between his fingers. And she continued, between moans.

“If you… think that… that I will forgive y-“

She grabbed the blankets of the bed, supressing a groan, as Sherlock’s tongue slid between her legs, and he grabbed her thighs, feasting on her. The room was spinning and Molly lost track of her thoughts, Sherlock’s hair a big mess of curls down on her, switching between licking and biting, using his tongue and his lips alone. The feeling was new to Molly and she rolled her eyes, grabbing his hair, directing him to where she needed him to be.

“Please…”

Molly muttered the words. She could feel all her body trembling, aching for more. And Sherlock waited a bit longer, relishing on the way her body shivered at each new intake, ready and wanting.

He removed his own trousers and leaned on her, spreading her legs to the side, his weight supported by the bed. He placed his elbows on the bed and held her shoulders, pulling them close, to kiss them. It was Molly’s hand that slid down this time, grabbing him. He sighed, exhaling as her fingers locked around it.

“Say you forgive me.” He demanded.

Molly’s hand moved up and down in rhythmic movements.

“No.” she said, smiling.

In a  blunt movement he grabbed both her arms and he pinned them to the bed.

“Say it.”

Molly bit his shoulder, trying to get away from his grasp.

“No.” She repeated it.

And she felt it, as he let go of one of her arms and brought her hips gently against his, getting inside her. They both moaned in unison, the impulse of the strike radiating through their bodies. Sherlock let go of her arm and Molly grabbed his back, pulling herself against him again. Sherlock moved out of her, in slow motion, while she kissed his neck. Then, he stopped.

“Say it now or I’ll stop at once.”

“If you stop I’ll kill you.”

He laughed and kissed her, grabbing her and moving in and out of her again, his whole body wanting to take control by itself. He wouldn’t let it.

Molly’s nails left marks on his back and he could see inside his mind the pattern they made, the intensity, deeper at each stroke.

“I hate you.” She said, for no apparent reason.

“I know.” Was all he answered.

If this was what they called make up sex, he surely wanted to make her angry all the time.

She came first, embracing him, screaming loud and shaking, tight around him. And he closed his eyes, letting it all submerge him, taking him far, far away. His mind went blank, and his eyes rolled and he moaned as well, a low groan of pleasure.

They were sweaty, and tired, but satisfied.

He fell by her side and she leaned on him, her hair falling all over her, her heart beating fast. Sherlock found her eyes and they locked on each other, no words.

“I’m sorry.” He tried again, for the last time.

“I’m not.” She whispered.

And they both fell asleep to the sound of the rain on the window and with new memories, to repeat later. 


End file.
